


One Special Day

by msdowartyheps



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Not Canon Compliant, One Shot, Post-Canon, Self-Indulgent, Silly, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:06:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25598533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msdowartyheps/pseuds/msdowartyheps
Summary: A fluffy take on Christine’s birthday.
Relationships: Christine Daaé & Erik | Phantom of the Opera, Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Comments: 7
Kudos: 37





	One Special Day

Christine woke up with a sigh.

Today was her birthday.

She wasn’t sure Erik knew it; it was hard to keep track of time when one lived underground. Of course, the Opera House staff usually organized a small celebration on everyone’s birthday, but her husband rarely felt the need to go upstairs anymore. The new manager was much more respectful towards the Opera Ghost than Firmin and André, “and better with arts, too”, Erik had said, and never denied him any of his requests nor his payment. In fact, when the chosen opera was especially successful, Erik was even granted a small bonus.

A small part of her wanted him to surprise her, expected it even, but she tried not to get her hopes too high.

As Christine walked into the small kitchen Erik had built after their plans of getting married started to become closer to reality, the smell of freshly baked bread and melted cheese filled her nostrils, and she couldn’t help the delighted moan that escaped her.

“Good morning, Erik”, she approached him and earned a kiss to her forehead. 

“Good morning, my dear. Would you mind setting the table?  _ Petit déjeuner _ shall be ready soon.”

“Of course.”

Christine grabbed two plates and two sets of cutlery and placed them on the small kitchen table. Erik still had a difficult relationship with food, but could never deny anything to his wife, who took advantage of this to insist he had at least one complete meal a day.

“Shouldn’t I be the one cooking breakfast and taking care of the house while you slept for a bit longer?”, she mused.

Erik scoffed. “You’re my wife, not a servant. We both live here, it’s only fair that we share house duties. Besides, you have a job. It would be unfair of me to simply impose that extra burden.”

Christine smiled. Other husbands would surely find such situation offensive, but Erik was nothing if not unusual.

Breakfast was eaten over small talk, mostly about the current production and the audience’s great reaction. If Erik knew anything about that special day, he disguised it with mastery.

When Christine reached the Opera House floors, she was warmly greeted by her friends, colleagues and even the manager- she was his star afterall. As usual, a delicious cake was served during lunch break and she even got a few gifts.

Another lead singer was to perform tonight, so when rehearsals were over Christine made her way back home. The  _ corps de ballet _ performed with the opera cast every night, so Meg and the other dancers needed to get ready, but they had scheduled a shopping trip for the following Monday, when there were no performances, to celebrate her birthday. The life of an artist was filled with such concessions, but Christine didn’t mind it one bit.

That was it, Christine thought, acceptance taking over. She had had a good day, had eaten a satisfyingly large piece of cake and had the night off. 

When she finally made it to their house, though, she was shocked.

Erik had laid a picnic towel on the shore by the lake, a wooden basket on top of it next to a single red rose with a ribbon tied on the stalk. All the lamps were lit and it was warm. She walked inside cautiously, half afraid of her husband’s surprises.

“Welcome home, my darling”, Erik rose from his armchair near the fireplace and walked to her. She was glad to see he didn’t wear a mask, even though his wig was firmly placed. He still wanted to look good.

“Erik, I saw the picnic basket outside, what exactly are you planning?”

“Well, Christine, today is a very special day. Forgotten all about it, have you? This journey home can be awfully distracting sometimes…”

“No, I… I know what day it is, but I thought… I thought you wouldn’t remember it”, she confessed in a mutter, lowering her eyes. “I know it’s hard to keep track of the days down here.”

Erik merely chuckled.

“My dearest wife… One would think you underestimate my intelligence. Now, would you like to take a bath? Putting on something you haven’t been wearing all day shall make you more comfortable and then we can have supper. The food is almost ready.”

“I will, it sounds like a lovely idea.”

Christine picked out a fancy, dark blue night dress, along with some fine jewelry, and decided she would try a nice hairdo as well. It was a special day afterall, and Erik, as usual, was dressed to the nines. It didn’t matter to her that the dress would probably get dirty from sitting on the shore.

As she walked out of their bedroom, washed and properly dressed, the delicious smell of her favorite foods filled her nostrils, making her stomach grumble. She giggled- such noises were not much ladylike, but she knew Erik would not mind. Working at the opera all day long always made her famished. She then noticed Erik had set the dinner table.

“I thought we were eating by the lake?”

“We are, but I saved it for dessert. How does that sound?”

“If you think I’ll dismiss an opportunity to eat sweets next to a lake I must say you don’t know me that well, Monsieur”, she grinned.

“That’s what I thought. Let us eat, then, and after dessert I believe a birthday present is in order.”

Erik took her hand and guided Christine to the table. She felt as if she was a queen, an empress even, at the fanciest restaurant in Paris. Erik’s manners were always unquestionable, but today something about it made her feel extra special. He was striving to please her, that much was clear. She vaguely wondered if her husband would ever cease trying to make it up for their past.

They had come a long way since that terrible incident with Raoul. Now that he knew true love was the complete opposite of his old twisted ideas, Erik regretted it all deeply. He had formally apologized to the Vicomte and done his best to let this change of heart show through his actions, knowing all too well that it didn’t erase his past wrongdoings. It took Raoul some time to get over his traumas and mistrust, but eventually the men managed to establish a civil treatment towards each other. It was more than Christine would ever dare to ask for.

The food was exquisite. Erik had the ability of mastering whatever activity he chose, and cooking was no different. He had soon learned what she did and did not like and it wasn’t an exaggeration to say he had become an expert on her favorites.

Today’s specialty was, of course, the chocolate éclair. Despite having reservations on sugar and chocolate’s effects on Christine’s voice, Erik was very much aware of her sweet tooth, and seeing her huge smile as she took a bite, he decided it was worth her being slightly out of tune. It was not like anyone would actually notice it.

They lounged lazily by the lake, just enjoying the feeling of each other’s embrace, each other’s company, exchanging a few kisses and making small talk. About an hour passed, however, and Erik started to worry about the cold humid air and the potential harm to Christine’s wellbeing.

“Are you getting cold,  _ ma petite _ ?”

Christine frowned thoughtfully.

“I… Am comfortable here. But I think I could use a few minutes by the fireplace as well.”

Erik quickly gathered the towel and the basket and they walked back inside.

Christine dropped her relaxed body onto a chaise near the fire, as if her legs couldn’t hold her weight up much longer. Meanwhile, her husband walked into the kitchen, put the dirty plates, forks, knives and wine glasses on the sink so he could wash it later, stowed the picnic basket and towel in their respective places, and went to his room. He came out carrying a square box wrapped in golden tin foil, only to find a very relaxed Christine by the fire, her eyes closed.

Erik chuckled.

“My poor, sweet wife”, he said aloud, knowing she wasn’t actually asleep. “She must have fatigued herself. I guess I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to give her gift.”

Christine’s eyes shot open immediately and she sat up straight, a huge grin plastered on her face. She all but tore the wrapping from her husband’s hands, opening it carefully, only to find a black box that she knew exactly what meant.

“Oh, Erik…”

He then proceeded to open the black velvet box. When she saw its content, Christine lost her breath.

It was the most sumptuous necklace she had ever seen. Thin golden chains formed a collar that should go halfway up her neck, tying small amethysts in an intricate pattern. Just below where she presumed her clavicles would be when she wore it, laid three large rhodolite garnets, each one shaped like a drop hung upside down, surrounded by minuscule amethysts and diamonds and a drop-shaped pearl hanging from each pointed tip.

It was a majestic jewel, though Christine doubted even a remotely similar piece could be found in a queen’s collection.

“Erik… This is beautiful”, she brought her hand up and touched it, her fingers barely feeling the metal underneath them, as if afraid the necklace would somehow break if her grip was too tight. “I love it.”

“I’m glad, my rose. Now, if you are not feeling too tired, may your husband have this dance?”

Christine smiled widely. “Of course. All the dances he wishes.”

She stood up and Erik turned her around so he could secure the jewel around her neck. Once he was sure the clasp was safe, her husband brought them face to face again, and wound her arms up around his neck, resting his hands on the sides of her waist. They leaned in so their foreheads and noses touched, and closed their eyes. In a formal ballroom, their position might be considered inadequate, gaudy, vulgar even, but in the safety of their own home, hidden from judging eyes, they were free to express their love in whichever way suited them.

Erik started humming a tune, a piece he had composed especially for Christine, and the couple started moving around the room as the music flowed between them.

Savouring the moment, Christine closed her eyes and simply let her husband lead. During her years living in the opera house quarters she had always been happy, but nothing came close to the pure joy she was feeling now.

They had come a long way since he first started giving her singing lessons. When Raoul came back into her life years later, Erik’s actions and inability to deal with his own feelings nearly tore them apart, but after a lot of work they managed to overcome it, and it had brought them here.

Happily married, and certain that life had never felt so good.


End file.
